Sweet Awakening

by Marjorie Farrell

  * * * *

  When Clare crawled under the covers that night, she replayed the scene in the garden. She had never forgotten that first kiss. And this second had not been disappointing. She had felt the same rush of longing, the same shakiness in her legs, the same desire for the kiss to go on forever.

  Yet she had been a little frightened of her feelings. Had Giles also wished that the garden, the flowers, the people inside the ballroom would fall away so that all that existed was the two of them? Did he even remember their first kiss? He had no doubt kissed many women since then. What made her special? Perhaps he had only kissed her because it was expected of two people whose betrothal was practically assured?

  The intensity of her response and her inability to communicate it to him thrust her back into the childish insecurity she had never quite left behind. Her love and affection felt locked inside her. She needed Giles to open the door, to show that he loved and needed her, to meet her newly awakening passion with his own.

  But they would have another opportunity, she reassured herself. Perhaps even tomorrow night at the Carstairs’s ball.

  Chapter Two

  An invitation to the Carstairs’s ball was a sign that one was part of the crème de la crème, and so there was quite a ripple of conversation when Lord Justin Rainsborough was announced. At first, no one recognized his name, but then one old dowager remembered that he was a distant cousin of Lady Carstairs who had spent the last five years in the West Indies and had just returned upon inheriting the title from the recently deceased Earl Rainsborough.

  Miss Lucy Kirkman, who had caught this last tidbit, hurried over to the edge of the ballroom where Clare and Sabrina were standing with a few other young ladies.

  “That is the new Earl Rainsborough,” she announced. “Isn’t he the most devastatingly handsome man you have ever seen?” she whispered. Sabrina smiled to herself as she watched Lucy subtly adjust her gown so that the bodice was lower by a half an inch.

  Clare looked across the floor to where Lord Rainsborough stood surveying the crowd. His gaze met hers in that instant, and she turned away, embarrassed to be caught staring. But Lucy was right. He was the most striking man she had ever seen. He was tall, well built, and dressed all in black, which together with his black hair and tanned face made his gray eyes quite startling.

  What would it be like, she wondered, as she listened to the conversation around her, to be held in his arms. She was immediately horrified to be fantasizing about him, for wasn’t she almost a betrothed woman? Not to mention the fact that she was hardly the sort of young lady who would attract such a man’s attention. Lucy Kirkman was much more his type.

  * * * *

  It was therefore no surprise when Lord Rainsborough, accompanied by his hostess, was introduced to Lucy and the cluster of young men and women around her. The young men included him in their discussion of the current derby favorites, but since Lord Rainsborough was but newly arrived in England, he could hardly contribute his opinion.

  Clare had never before been so awake to a man’s presence, even Giles. She could feel him with every cell in her body, and every cell seemed to be quivering like blancmange. When he turned toward the ladies, she found herself fussing with her bracelet, snapping and unsnapping the clasp. In a moment, he would ask Lucy to dance and she could relax.

  When she heard him address her instead, she was so flustered that she left her bracelet undone and it slipped off her wrist and fell right at the earl’s feet. Without thinking, Clare reached down to pick it up at the same time as Rainsborough and their hands met. His touch made all the hairs on her arm stand up.

  “Here is your bracelet, Lady Clare,” said the earl, smiling down at her.

  Clare was crimson with embarrassment. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Here, let me fasten it for you,” he added as she fumbled with the clasp. Clare extended her arm and shivered as he gently closed it over her wrist.

  “This is a lovely piece. I see it matches your eyes perfectly.”

  It was a pretty compliment, though hardly original. But somehow, Lord Rainsborough’s tone made Clare feel that no one had ever really seen her eyes before. A thrill went through her, but she recovered enough presence of mind to thank him for his help.

  “I was wondering ... although I hardly think it would be likely ... would you have a dance free this evening?” Rainsborough asked.

  In fact, Clare did not have a dance free. But she couldn’t bear the thought of letting Rainsborough go, for he would never ask her again. She glanced over her card. Captain Barton was down for the next cotillion. Did she have the courage to lie? To insult a perfectly nice young man? She looked up and saw Lord Rainsborough’s pleading look and threw caution and courtesy to the winds.

  “Why, as a matter of fact, it seems like my next dance is free.”

  Clare was very grateful that the dance was struck almost immediately and that Captain Barton was across the room. She and the earl moved off before her promised partner could reach her.

  It was as thrilling to have Rainsborough lead her through the dance as she thought it would be. He never drew her too close, but just the feel of his hand around her waist as they came together in the figures of the dance was enough to make her feel as though she had no bones.

  They did not speak, but let themselves be lost in the music. It was surprising, but despite the differences in their heights and the fact that it was his first time partnering her, it felt to Clare that they had been dancing together for years, so easily did they move together.

  When Rainsborough returned her to her companions and bowed his thanks and walked away, she watched him go with her heart in her heels. That was that: the first and last time Clare Dysart would dance with the most handsome, charming man in London. But he had danced with her and not Lucy Kirkman or the Honorable Susan Maxwell, so that was something.

  Later in the evening, when Giles came to claim one of his dances and take her into supper, she was unusually quiet. Her body was still in the arms of Lord Rainsborough, however ridiculous the feeling. It was certainly not with Giles. She moved through the rest of the evening like a sleepwalker, hardly noticing Giles’s hand when it brushed hers at supper.

  And later, when Giles asked if she wished to step outside for some fresh air, she took his arm and allowed him to lead her out without even thinking about his intentions. When he leaned down to kiss her, she experienced only a fleetingly pleasant sensation and Giles pulled away, puzzled by her lack of response.

  “Are you feeling well, Clare? You seem a bit distracted. Or are my kisses too respectful,” he added with a smile. “I promise you, they need not be.”

  Clare felt terrible. This was Giles, her dearest friend and here she was, distracted by the memory of a light touch from a complete stranger.

  “I apologize, Giles. Of course it is not your kisses. I am just rather tired tonight. I danced every dance, you know.”

  “I hear you even jilted Barton for a dance with the mysterious Lord Rainsborough. He seems to be quite a charmer. He managed to get Lady Allendale on the floor, and she rarely dances with anyone but her husband and her sons,” he teased.

  Clare could understand Lord Rainsborough’s success very well. She thought she would have the same response to him at fifty or seventy as she had tonight. She was immediately horrified by her thoughts. Here she was imagining herself with someone else other than Giles, as though Lord Rainsborough had asked her to marry him and she had agreed and was fantasizing about their long life together. She resolved to wipe all such unrealistic dreams out of her mind and concentrate on Giles. He had not declared himself yet, but she was confident he would. And it was to him she would promise her love and loyalty.

  * * * *

  Clare would have kept to her resolve had Rainsborough ignored her. But he didn’t. The day after the Carstairs’s ball, she received a small corsage of violets with a sweet note from him thanking her for their dance and making a comparison between the flowers an
d her eyes. That night at a musicale, he made an obvious beeline for her, and Clare was very much aware of the whispers around her. And later in the week, when Lord Rainsborough called and asked if he could have her company for a short stroll in the park that afternoon, Clare did not know what to say.

  She had no other commitments, but Giles did tend to drop by in the afternoons and so she often kept them free. But they had no formal plans, after all, she thought, suppressing a pang of guilt. Giles did rather take it for granted that she would be available for his company. Stirring up a little self-righteous annoyance helped her push Giles’s disappointed face out of her mind. She smiled at Lord Rainsborough, thanked him for his lovely flowers, and agreed to walk with him.

  Of course, her abigail accompanied them. And since it was almost the fashionable hour, they were hardly alone. Yet it felt as though the earl had drawn a protective circle around them. He was attentive, charming, and amusing as he told her tales of the West Indies. Clare was fascinated by his descriptions of exotic flowers and birds.

  “But I have been monopolizing this conversation,” he said apologetically. "Tell me something about yourself, Lady Clare.”

  “Indeed, there is very little to tell,” replied Clare with a nervous laugh. “I’m afraid I have never traveled farther than to Glastonbury with the Whittons.”

  “Ah, yes. Viscount Whitton and Lady Sabrina. They seem like a delightful pair.”

  Clare’s face lit up. “Yes, they are my dearest friends, almost like family.” She went on to explain how much younger she was than her own brother and sister.

  “I am happy to hear you describe them as family, Lady Clare,” said Rainsborough. “I had heard rumors that you and Whitton were promised to one another.”

  Clare flushed. “There is no official betrothal, my lord. That is, Giles has not asked me yet, although I am sure he will ... oh, dear, that sounds quite bold of me, doesn’t it?” Why, she thought, was she downplaying what was a very real, albeit unspoken understanding? And why was Lord Rainsborough happy to have her describe Giles in brotherly terms?

  “Then there is no real reason for you to turn away another suitor, my lady?” Lord Rainsborough asked in such a tone that Clare felt he was actually caressing her with his voice. But before she could even think of a response, he turned them around and in normal accents said, “I think I see an old acquaintance over there. Come, let me introduce you.”

  The next day, when Clare had received a small box of candied violets from the earl and a note thanking her for her kindness to a stranger returned home after many years, she decided that, really, there was nothing to be concerned about. She was a sympathetic listener. She too knew what it was to feel a kind of outsider. And the earl had somehow sensed that. He had only wanted an afternoon’s companionship after all.

  She picked out one of the sweets he had sent her, and licked at the crystallized sugar. The question was, what did she want? Why did her mouth want to be nibbling at Lord Rainsborough’s lips, those full and sensuous lips that could curl up in the most charming smile? Why was it Rainsborough’s arms around her that she imagined and not Giles’s? Giles was her beloved friend, her champion, her childhood Galahad. Why did Sir Galahad no longer hold the same appeal? How could she find anyone as good as Giles? As familiar?

  She loved Giles. She had no doubts about that. She had quietly given him all the affection she had stored up. All the love her family didn’t seem to need from her. Not that she had ever spoken of it. But it was there, waiting for him.

  She knew that Giles loved her. But why did he love her? Because they were old friends? Because it was easy to let affection carry one along into a marriage that both sets of parents wanted? Because he was used to the idea? Clare wished she had someone to talk to. Her usual confidant was Sabrina. But she could hardly say to Giles’s sister, “I love your brother dearly. But I am beginning to wonder if I love him, if you understand what I mean?” But Clare herself wasn’t sure she knew what she meant.

  * * * *

  The earl’s attentions, which had started quietly, became much more noticeable over the following days. He always made sure to have two dances with Clare, one of them the supper dance when at all possible. On the few occasions that Sabrina and Giles were not present, Lucy Kirkman made sure that they knew the latest.

  At first Sabrina was merely amused and pleased for Clare. After all, it was quite a compliment to be sought after by one of the handsomest men in London. After a while, however, she began to worry. Giles continued his quiet attendance on Clare, but there were no more visits to the gardens, and several times when he called in the afternoon, Clare was already out with Rainsborough.

  Really, it was time both of them woke up, thought Sabrina. Giles needed to woo Clare more energetically, and Clare needed to see that Rainsborough was all charm and no substance. Not that Sabrina had any real evidence of that. Not much was known about him, but what was, seemed perfectly respectable. He was handsome, intelligent, very charming, well-to-do, and the inheritor of a respected title. Yet for Sabrina, he seemed too good to be true. She was disappointed in Clare, for she knew, with her twin’s sixth sense, that Giles was hurt, although he gave no outward sign of it.

  One afternoon, while she and her brother were finishing a light nuncheon, she finally expressed her concern.

  “Are you at all worried about Lord Rainsborough and Clare, Giles?” she asked bluntly.

  “Rainsborough and Clare?” he responded coolly. “I wasn’t aware there was anything to worry about.”

  “Oh, Giles, don’t take that tone with me. You know what I mean. He may not exactly be ‘mad in pursuit,’ but his attentions have become more noticeable these past few evenings.”

  “I wanted Clare to enjoy her first Season, Sabrina, which is why I have not declared myself formally. I am happy if she is enjoying her flirtation. I’d far rather she make a real choice rather than accept me because it has been understood by our families that we will wed. We have always had a deep affection for each other and that is a far better foundation for marriage than a brief infatuation.”

  “Then you do at least admit the possibility that she is infatuated by Rainsborough?”

  “I am not blind, my dear sister. Nor stupid. But I am quite sure that when the Season ends, I will be announcing our betrothal.”

  “I hope you are right, Giles. I myself think you need to make a stronger push for yourself. After all, Clare is young and inexperienced. I would hate to think of her being overwhelmed by Rainsborough’s sophistication.” Sabrina felt a bit devious, but she knew that an appeal to Giles’s sense of responsibility for Clare would rouse him to action better than an appeal for his own best interest.

  “You don’t think he is any real danger to her reputation, Sabrina? Or her virtue?”

  “What does anyone know of Rainsborough, Giles? He has been away for the past six years, after all.”

  “Perhaps you are right, and it is time I declared myself.”

  Sabrina smiled across at her brother. “I think you should, Giles. And soon!”

  Chapter Three

  Giles had not been as indifferent to the situation as he had led his sister to believe. He had become increasingly concerned over the past two weeks as it became clear that the earl was pursuing Clare, but what he had told Sabrina was what he had told himself: that Clare needed to enjoy a flirtation before she committed herself to marriage.

  Except that this was beginning to look like something more than a light flirtation. The earl was very handsome and very charming and quite single-minded in his attention. Giles had to admit to himself that he did feel more than a twinge of jealousy each time Rainsborough approached Clare and he saw the expression of surprised delight on her face. She had never looked up at him like that. Oh, she was always pleased to see him, pleased to dance with him, but they were old friends, so how could his attentions surprise her? And while he had no insecurity about his attractiveness to women, he had to admit he looked fairly unprepossessing ne
xt to the darkly handsome earl.

  What he had said to Sabrina was true: he trusted Clare. He trusted her loyalty to their friendship. But perhaps it was time that he stepped in, before Rainsborough caused too much gossip or demanded a passionate response from Clare that Giles knew she was not ready to give. Tonight he would make it clear that Clare was spoken for.

  * * * *

  It was unfortunate for Giles that as he and Sabrina were about to set off for the Allendale rout, it was discovered that one of his grays was favoring his hind leg and had to be replaced. It made them late, and by the time they arrived, Rainsborough had claimed Clare as a supper partner, her waltzes were all taken, and Giles had to settle for one country-dance. Giles ended up squiring Lucy Kirkman into supper and had to listen to her pseudo-sympathetic observation on Clare’s obvious preference for new faces.

  “I had thought that you and she would have announced your betrothal by now, Giles,” she said.

  “Oh, I wish to give Clare every opportunity to enjoy her first Season,” he answered. “I am quite pleased to see my future wife such a success.” It was perhaps unwise to have been that open, but Lucy had quite driven him to it.

  He was not pleased to watch Clare and Rainsborough out of the corner of one eye. The earl was sitting very close to her and seemed to be whispering compliments into her ear, if her blushes were anything to go by. And after supper, Giles was never able to get Clare alone. Then, after a waltz, Rainsborough and she slipped out into the garden.

  * * * *

  The last week had been as disturbing for Clare as it had been for Giles and Sabrina. She knew she was falling in love with Rainsborough. Nay, she had fallen in love with him almost at first sight, she now realized. For what else but love was that strong sensation of being drawn inevitably to him. And of him being drawn to her.

  For he was drawn to her, like a magnet. The attraction between them was almost palpable, and she was amazed that there wasn’t some visible sign, like a shower of sparks when his hand brushed hers.